


Freebies

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Academia, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Barista Derek, Coffee, Coffee Shops, College Student Stiles, Courtship, Dessert & Sweets, Food, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Humor, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by GIFs, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Mouth Kink, No Betas Exist, Oblivious Stiles, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Behavior, Researcher Stiles, Rivalry, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, Silly, Subtext, Sweet, Tumblr Prompt, Wherein Alphas Prove They Can Provide For Their Omegas By Giving Them Free Things, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles can't figure out why people keep dropping, spilling or breaking things in his presence. And offering him free stuff. Like, what the heck?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freebies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [futureconflicted](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=futureconflicted).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Бесплатное угощение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929300) by [ho_ra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ho_ra/pseuds/ho_ra)



> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](http://futureconflicted.tumblr.com/post/102519779410/saucefactory-does-he-even-does-he-know-what-his), in which I and a fellow fan wax lyrical about Stiles’s beautiful mouth and how no Alpha could possibly resist it, especially given Stiles’s rather convenient oral fixation.

* * *

 

Stiles is typing on his laptop, a pen dangling from his mouth, when there’s a clatter nearby. He glances up, blinking, and it’s that stubbled guy who usually brings the café’s customers their coffee, except he’s apparently spilled it all over himself.

Specifically, he’s spilled _Stiles’s_ coffee all over himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make you another,” and before Stiles can say that, hey, he doesn’t mind, the man’s vanished into the kitchen.

Huh. That’s weird. As an Omega, Stiles doesn’t get too many apologies from Alphas. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, a customer who’s recently become a regular does exactly the same thing. As Stiles is licking chocolate from his fingers—he seriously _loves_ the eclairs in this shop—the customer somehow upsets his espresso, and it goes everywhere, dripping off his table.

The stubbled guy from before—his name tag says he’s “Derek”—appears like a genie, but his politeness seems to have evacuated the building, because he glowers at the customer and slops a cleaning rag onto the table so loudly that a bit of the espresso splashes onto the customer’s shirt.

“Don’t worry.” Derek grins toothily. “I’ll clean this right up.”

That’s when Stiles realizes the customer’s an Alpha, because his startlement has made him release his pheromones. Derek’s also releasing his pheromones, though, which doesn’t make any sense.

“What about my drink?” the Alpha challenges. “Aren’t you going to replace it?”

“Are you sure it’s a drink you want?”

They glare at each other.

And _keep_ glaring at each other.

Stiles, momentarily distracted from his thesis by their impromptu staring competition, is tempted to tweet the scene in front of him, because it’s hilarious. Do Alphas engage in pissing contests just for the heck of it? Because Stiles can’t see any point to this show.

Eventually, the customer looks away and exits, stage left.

Stiles shakes his head and returns to his textbook on Victorian architecture.

 

* * *

 

Stiles’s thesis deadline is fast approaching, and he’s taken up permanent residence in the café, because it has the best coffee and the best desserts, and the only way Stiles can finish his work is by getting hopped up on sugar and caffeine.

Today, he’s here with Ethan and Aiden, a pair of twins who have deadlines of their own, and who share Dr. Deaton with Stiles as their supervisor. Stiles isn’t entirely certain why they’ve been insisting on studying with him, lately, but who knows? Perhaps Stiles is being a good influence, for once. Dad would be so proud.

The twins are notorious as troublemakers around the campus, pulling the sort of stupid shit that restless, unmated Alphas pull. The fact that they’re capable of maintaining an almost worshipful silence as they study is surely a credit to Stiles, given that it’s only in Stiles’s presence that they study, at all.

“Aren’t you going to order the eclair?” Ethan asks, when Stiles takes a break and stretches, yawning.

“Yeah,” Aiden says, encouragingly. “You could use a sugar high.”

“Talk about it,” Stiles says, slumping in his chair. “Mm. I could go for a warmed-up caramel brownie, I guess. It’ll be all melty and sweet and sticky and—”

“I’ll get it,” Ethan says, and practically leaps out of his chair to race to the counter.

“He must be starving,” Stiles observes, and reminds Aiden, “but you do remember we’re splitting the bill, right?”

“Aw, c’mon. Let us treat you, once in a while.”

“Uh, what for?” Stiles says, sticking his ink-stained thumb in his mouth and sucking it clean. “I’m not—”

There’s a familiar crash—how come crashes are always happening around Stiles, these days?—and Stiles isn’t surprised to see that Ethan’s dropped the plate with the brownie on it. Aiden doesn’t seem to have registered the noise, however, his eyes fixed on Stiles and glowing faintly red.

“Um, guys?” Stiles says, mystified, but then Derek is looming behind Ethan like death incarnate.

“Out with you,” Derek says, and lifts Ethan by the back of his collar. It’s a miracle this place retains any customers, at the rate Derek throws them out. “You, too,” he says to Aiden.

“What the hell, man?” Aiden exclaims, finally dragging his gaze away from Stiles. “Stay out of our business, okay?”

“It isn’t your business,” Derek growls. “It’s _mine_.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ethan says.

“Yeah.” Derek does... something, changes his posture, and suddenly all Stiles can see are his huge, muscular shoulders, bunched up with a tension that presages violence.

Oh, shit. Also—oh, wow. Those shoulders.

There’s yet another staring contest, and ultimately, Ethan and Aiden back down. On their way out, Ethan tells Stiles: “You should’ve told us. No wonder you smell like him; you’re here everyday.”

“Damn,” Aiden grumbles. “What a fucking waste.”

“Told you what?” Stiles says, confused, when he’s gathered his wits. “And what’s a waste?”

But they just leave, taking their sullen anger with them, and the mood in the shop eases immediately. The hush that had fallen over the patrons lightens, and the café is restored to its normal hubbub.

Derek turns to him with a smile, and Stiles is so stunned by Derek’s transformation from “I’m the Alpha, Bitch” to “Friendly Neighborhood Barista” that he gapes.

“I’ll bring you a freshly-baked brownie,” Derek says, still smiling. “On the house.”

“Why the heck is everyone trying to give me free food? Not that I’m complaining, but I really should pay for—”

“No,” says Derek, firmly but gently. “You shouldn’t.”

It takes three paragraphs of exposition on architectural revolutions and a second cup of coffee—also, inexplicably, on the house—for Stiles to get it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, amazed by his own idiocy. It’s true that he’s been on heat suppressants for the past month, since it’s the season for his yearly heat, but he still has a baseline hormonal response to the presence of other Alphas. He’s less likely to notice it while he’s suppressed, but the Alphas definitely aren’t. Has he been giving off signals, without even being aware of it? Is he genuinely that much of a moron?

Derek arrives with the brownie and hovers hesitantly, waiting for Stiles to accept it.

Stiles is blushing so hotly that his face feels like it’s on fire. Overwhelmed, he stares at the brownie, because he’s too embarrassed to look at Derek.

Derek clears his throat. “I could… I could fetch the eclair, instead. If you want.”

If _he_ wants? Jesus. No pressure, choosing a mate at the drop of a hat. “I dunno,” Stiles mumbles. “Maybe I should, er, acquaint myself with the menu, first. More than I’m already acquainted, I mean. And then… Then I’ll know if I, um, wanna buy anything.”

Derek goes very, very still. His voice is different when he replies—hoarser, raspier, deeper. “My shift ends in an hour,” he says.

“Oh,” says Stiles, daring to peek at Derek. Yep, those’re red eyes, all right. Heat eyes. Mating eyes.

“If you’re willing to wait for me, I could spend some time introducing you to what’s on offer.”

“Oh,” Stiles repeats, weakly, because the ability to form actual words has deserted him. Which is potentially disastrous for his graduate thesis.

But potentially beneficial for his sex life.

Hopefully.

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Want updates and sneak previews? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Freebies (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661863) by [auroreanrave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave), [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery)




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